She smiled coldly as she slowly drew her blade
across the young man's throat to let his dark blood gush over the front of his
shirt. When his body fell to the ground, his friends stared in horror at the
beautiful deamon who had so coldly killed one of their own. The urge to fight
was overcome by the urge to save themselves. So, they ran and left their small,
terrified victim to stare into the glowing red eyes of her savior. One glance
from this fire haired woman sent her running as well, thankfully uninjured,
however her terror stole her breath.

Diana liquidly straightened from the swiftly
cooling corpse at her feet and stepped back into the shadows, extinguishing the
glow from her eyes and sheething her blade. She was angry. She was far angrier
than she had been in a long, long time. And all over a man. A friend. One she'd
slowly become aware she cared too much for. One she'd known had cared a great
deal for her.

And now he was leaving.

She shook her head lightly and stepped into the
shadows of the ally again. A short leap had her snagging the bottom of the fire
escape, and she scaled it. Shortly, she leapt along the rooftops, concentraiting
soley on the sinuouse movement of her muscles. She hunted her prey.

Mitch...whoever you are...why didn't you
listen to me? Shimatta...why did I say the things I did? Diana baka yo...

She shook her head, then paused, narrowing her
eyes and looking into the magical relm. There was a familiar energy pattern
flitting around a lone man sitting far below; slowly gaining power, although to
the naked eye, he appeared to do nothing more than simply read a book.

No...Teirnan...you're dead...

There was no mistaking it. It was him. In one
shape or another, it was him.

A low growl rippled from her throat as the rage
swelled up within. She unsheethed her sword and leapt at him.

She felt the darkness surge within her veins as
the vampire, deamon and succubus grew within her. The thirst for blood was
overwhelming. Not just the ferrus taste, but the warm feel of it corsing over
her skin, the thick texture thrilling her nerves.

She did not drink. She pulled the man, his
vocal cords severed already, to a place out of the view of the street. Slowly
she sliced his skin off of his body. The pain coursing over his face was
intoxicating.

She opened herself up to it, and used it as
fuel to slowly slice flesh away, layer by layer.

And when she was finished; when the blood
coated her skin and armor; she looked down at the result. The body, barely more
than a skeleton surrounded by severed flesh, save for the face frozen in a
silent scream of agony and terror, stared into the muggy summer night with
glassed over eyes.

She didn't want to know which she wanted to do
more; scream or laugh.

Instead, she simply walked away. Deep into a
nearby park. Deep into the darkness. She found a place hidden from the world,
and curled into herself. A demon to some, an angel to others. Now only a mere
woman in dark armor, her heart shattered, mind numbed and soul scraped raw.